


long overdue

by angelheartbeat



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awkward Conversations, Late Night Conversations, Loki (Marvel) Feels, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 07:14:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14255727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelheartbeat/pseuds/angelheartbeat
Summary: Loki and the Valkyrie have a long-overdue conversation, and come to a conclusion.





	long overdue

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this in my notes over like,, three days and yep! i hate it!

Loki wouldn't call the Valkyrie a friend.

In fact, he wouldnt really say he had _any_ friends - not living ones, anyway. Thor was... well, there was a time that they had been friends, brothers and best friends, but he had betrayed his trust one too many times, and now they were just in an uneasy truce.

He didn't like to admit it, but the Hulk scared him, and subsequently Bruce made him a little nervous, even if he didnt outright scare him. Heimdall had seen one too many of his scheming deeds to trust him at all, really, and he had never liked him much to begin with anyway.

They had been teammates, fought alongside each other, but the feeling that it was more out of necessity than a respect for his skills lingered in the back of his mind, a hovering presence that wouldnt leave him alone no matter how much he distracted himself. He wondered if thats how the Hulk felt to Bruce.

In any case, he couldn't settle, gears in his mind turning too violently for him to relax, resulting in him roaming the halls of their ship more often than not. Surviving Asgardians tended to scurry past him rather than bowing like they did with Thor, making conversation like they did with Bruce or Heimdall, nodding in respect like they did to the last remaining Valkyrie, or even acknowledging his presence, making his heart ache and cry out for the recognition and love he'd craved his entire life.

When he wasn't roaming, he often found himself at one of the many bars dotted round the Sakaarian ship, downing glass after glass and bottle after bottle of multicoloured mind-numbing liquors. God he missed Sakaar - the mindless music, parties, attention and interest directed only at him. It was hell, it was lawless and chaotic and it hurt to be told he belonged there, but he would be lying if he said he wouldnt take up an offer to return. Anything would be better than this numb, lost shell he seemed to have become.

Of course Loki understood the Valkyrie's addiction to drinking amounts that would be dangerous had she not the constitution and resilience of a true Asgardian and Valkyrie. There was something about it, particularly Sakaarian drinks, that made everything just a tad easier to bear. No doubt she was always off at one of the other bars, drinking them dry herself. She wouldn't want company, of that Loki was certain, especially not him. It was no secret that she hated him.

He hadn't slept in a while, but he knew he'd be fine without it - or well, had he been truly Æsir he knew he'd be fine. His knowledge on Jötunn intolerance for sleep deprivation was limited, as was genuine education on frost giants in general, besides the childhood horror stories he'd been told about the murderous, violent race that he was evidently living up to. He didn't think anyone else was sleeping much either, not that he saw them often.

It was hard to imagine being lonely on a ship with hundreds of hungry, discontented survivors of a mass genocide, one alcoholic warrior, alien rebellion rabble, a meek albeit sarcastic scientist/radioactive mindless monster, a one-eyed king and, well, Loki. But somehow he managed it.

They had been drifting for a good few weeks, and Loki was starting to worry about the seemingly bottomless stash of alcohol actually having a bottom, not to mention the food store being minimal at best. The thought of sneaking into the food storage and secretly replenishing it with his magic had crossed his mind more than once, but what shreds of pride and ego he still retained held him back. These people didn't care about him, why should he care about them?

He knew that was selfish, but he had lived most of his life only caring about number one. Some part of him was telling himself that he was only living up to what Thor had said - he never seemed to want to change, only go round in circles for ever and ever and ever, and god he hated it.

So he did it - he snuck into the food storage at a time when he knew most people would be partaking in what minimal rest they could get, and drained most of his energy duplicating what little resources they had. Creating actual objects rather than illusions required a great deal more energy, and he smiled mirthlessly at the fact that he was doing so much work for people who wouldn't even look him in the eye. Frigga would have been proud of him, and that did make him genuinely smile, even as he looked over the pitiful amount he had managed to accomplish.

It was a start, and as he stumbled back to his room and fell into sleep for the first time into a while, although it was restless and dreamless, he was proud of himself. He made a change. He wasn't stuck in a rut like Thor had said - well, he had been, but maybe he was finally digging himself out.

People were amazed at the miracle that seemed to have occurred, not a clue of who had replenished the food stores, and the ship was buzzing with good moods and near-full stomachs for the first time since their journey began, and Loki felt a stirring of genuine pride in his stomach.

He was slumped against the wall of a bar later that night, bottle in hand, when the Valkyrie came and slid down onto the floor next to him, her hand clamped around her own bottle.

"That was a good thing you did," she commented, breaking the heavy, alcohol-scented silence.

"What was?"

"Refilling the food store like that. You didn't have to. Its not like anyone on the ship even knows it was you, although it might change their opinions on you if they did. You're not very popular."

"Yeah, I noticed," Loki grumbled, taking a swig of liquor and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Wait. How did you know it was me?"

"I guessed. Good thing I guessed right."

They sat in silence for a minute or two, drinking and thinking.

"Why are you here?" Loki eventually asked. "I was under the impression you hated me."

"You know I said people's opinions on you might change if they knew? Speaking from experience. I didn't think you had it in you. Nor did I think you had the capacity to drink so much."

"Yes, well, we're all full of surprises. So you no longer want me dead?"

The Valkyrie smiled tightly. "It varies from moment to moment."

"Are you using my own words against me? You can't do that."

"I think you'll find I just did."

There was a pause, before they both burst out into drunken laughter, and the tension in the air cleared considerably.

"I think we should start over," Loki said, before proffering his hand to be shaken. "I am Loki.... Loki. And you are?"

"I'm..." 

The Valkyrie looked at his outstretched hand, before sighing and chugging the rest of her liquor bottle. Loki suddenly felt sheepish. Should he retract his hand? But before he got a chance, she clamped his hand in a death grip, smiling as he winced slightly.

"I'm Brunnhilde, the last living Valkyrie," she said, with a slight air of cockiness, and Loki was warming to her already. 

"Brunnhilde, hm? Nice name," he said, once their hands were no longer clasped, and taking yet another swig of alcohol. "I've been calling you the Valkyrie in my head."

"I like that. The Valkyrie. Its got an air of resilience."

"Well, you're certainly resilient."

"I still think you're shitty for what you did back on Sakaar, though."

Loki winced. He knew this newfound maybe-friendship wouldn't go far before she chewed him out for his assholery in forcing her to relive her worst memory. "Yes, I know."

"You're not a great person."

"Yes, I know." God did he know.

"Can you feel people's feelings, when you do that?"

"Yes, I can. I'm sorry."

"Asshole."

"Yes, I know."

"I guess we're friends now, though."

"Yes, I- wait, no, what? We are?"

"We haven't got many other friends on this ship, do we? My best friend spends most of his time as someone else - who's great, and all, but definitely not as fun to spar with as the big guy. Everyone else is great, but most of the Asgardians seem to think I'm too important to approach, or something." She stood, suddenly, and walked behind the bar, not even stumbling, and pulled out another bottle of alcohol, not even bothering to glance at the label before she opened it and swigged.

"Has Thor told you about everything I've done?" Loki asked quietly, needing to get it out before it tore him up.

Brunnhilde paused in her drinking and looked at Loki for a long time. "Yes," she finally responded, and Loki felt his heart drop.

"And you're still willing to call me a friend."

She looked at him again, and he had the horrible feeling that he was being analysed. The Grandmaster had that look a lot. He wondered if thats where Brunnhilde learnt it, or if its just something she knew. "Yes," she said quietly, and Loki felt like his knees might give out.

"Why?"

"There's probably good in you, somewhere. And like I said, pretty limited for choice here."

They fell back into silence, tension having returned to the air.

"I want to change."

"Change how?"

"Change... in any way. My brother left me being electrocuted on the floor, and he told me that I never seemed to change, that we just went round and round. I want to change."

"Is that why you refilled the food stores?"

Loki allowed himself a small smile. "You're very perceptive."

"Thank you. I think... your mother would have been proud."

His blood runs cold. "I hope so," he whispers, not questioning how she knows of Frigga, still not knowing whether Frigga was Hela's mother or not, or how she knew Frigga was dead, using the past tense.

She wordlessly passed him another bottle, noticing that the one in his hand was almost depleted, and he nodded in acknowledgement, finishing off what was left of the one he had and accepting the one she offered.

"Do you know if my brother's been sleeping?" he asked, suddenly filled with concern for his older brother, now king of a mostly-massacred people. Brunnhilde grimaced, and he knew that it was a resounding _no, not really._

"You should talk to him, though. He's worried about you."

"He... is?"

"Of course he is."

Of course he is. _Of course he is._  Like its such a natural thing, like Loki's deserving of Thor's worry and concern, especially when he has so much else he needs to think about. 

"I'll talk to him," Loki said.

They didn't talk much after that, not wanting to break this bond they were forming, and eventually going their separate ways to their rooms, but not after both downing multiple bottles of liquor and waving a wobbly goodbye. Loki felt... different. Like something had been lifted off of him, although he couldn't tell what.

It was a nice feeling. Maybe it was the absence of guilt. Maybe it was the pride in having changed something about himself. Maybe it was the pride in having made the Asgardian's marginally happier in their drift through unfamiliar space.

Loki would call the Valkyrie a friend. And he knows Brunnhilde would call him one too.

The thought makes him happy.

**Author's Note:**

> leave comments or the duolingo owl is going to fucking shoot itself in the head


End file.
